The Wearin' O' The Green
by therubyone
Summary: Based on a challenge for St. Patrick's Day, this is a story about Megan, Drake & Josh catching their parents having some drunken fun & on the day after Megan toys with Walter, Drake has a sweet moment with his mom. Rated Mature for HET Walter
1. Chapter 1

**Author:** therubyone

**Rated**: M for Mature, some bodacious het (surprise!) between Walter & Audrey

**Disclaimer:** _Drake and Josh_ Characters not owned nor created by me, neither ill will nor profit sought

**Summary: **Parents will be people, too - Walter and Audrey come home drunk from a wild St. Patrick's Day celebration and their kids accidentally discover them having some adult fun!

_Based on the St. Patrick's Day & subsequent fanfic challenges from Theatrephunk_

**THE WEARIN' O' THE GREEN**

**Chapter 1 – 'Twas a Grand Old Time**

Walter and Audrey Nichols made a happy couple and they loved their active social life. They enjoyed going out together, as if they were still dating. This evening was no exception: the occasion was the annual St. Patrick's Day party at KSTV, Channel 7, a splendid event hosted by the station manager Bob Galloway, and always set to take place the evening of the day the news team covered the St. Patrick's Day _parade_. So the lovely red-headed Audrey, nee Audrey O'Hara, was decked out as a comely colleen in a short green skirt with a tight-waisted bodice, showing frilly white lace at the bustline and revealing a hint of cleavage. Walter's holiday costume turned him into the biggest leprechaun ever seen to roam the Earth. Many viewed him as a dufus, but he was Audrey's great big bear of a man, a steady provider for the family, who was known to carry hundred dollar bills in his wallet, he also had a great head of hair, and even more important, he was absolutely great in bed.

Mr. and Mrs. Nichols were not, however, big drinkers. Carefully avoiding the kegs of green beer, they stuck with the emerald punch, not realizing it was spiked until they were already well into their cups. In fact, they didn't stop imbibing until they were what the Irish like to call "three sheets to the wind." As much as parents are viewed as responsible people who never say or do anything out of the ordinary or who would take any unnecessary risks, sometimes it happens. This was one of those evenings. In fact, it must have been the luck of the Irish that protected Audrey as she drove them home in Walter's snazzy blue convertible (with the top down, of course). If she had not taken the back way and the short cuts, she might have been stopped at one of several St. Patrick's Day police checkpoints and immediately arrested for driving under the influence.

As they pulled into the garage at home, rather crookedly, Walter, who had been napping, awoke with a snort. He was totally in love with his beautiful wife and he considered himself an extremely _lucky_ man. The demon alcohol can make a person especially sentimental, because it is a legal brain-killing poison that first attacks the inhibitions. Walter burst into song to serenade his lovely wife, drunkenly crooning _**When Irish Eyes**_ _**Are Smiling**_. Audrey found the performance completely charming and rewarded Walter with a hot French kiss. Walter responded like a bull spying a red flag. Before she knew what was happening, she was in the backseat and Walter was going for the pot o' gold at the end of the rainbow. He seemed to have suddenly grown an extra set of hands. And lips. One minute he was lifting her breasts out of her blouse and bra, the next he was groping under her skirt. With the expertise of a familiar lover, he touched her just so and she bucked under his hand. And his mouth never stopped. When he wasn't kissing her breathless, he was sucking her earlobes, licking her nipples, and nibbling on her neck in a way that simply drove her crazy.

It was as if nobody else existed at that moment. Before you could say "Top o' the mornin'," Walter had managed to get both of their pants down and was easing an eager Audrey onto his own very wooden 'shillelagh.' Audrey threw her head back in reckless abandon and started to get very noisy as Walter bounced her up and down. God, she knew they were beyond intoxicated, and she no longer cared. The heat and the slick friction between them was building up to one hell of a release, as Walter alternated sucking on and then teasing Audrey's nipples with the fingers of his free hand, the other hand continuing to guide her movements over his ample shaft.

Megan Parker was a sound sleeper, but something about the strange noises coming from the garage disturbed her and brought her to sudden wakefulness. She decided to get her parents, in case there was a crazy burglar breaking into their house. Quietly, she crept into her parents' bedroom, to find them not in it. Then she remembered they had gone to a party. Afraid of revealing her presence to any unknown intruders, she eased her way timidly down the steps in darkness, and as she got closer, the sounds got louder and scarier.

Audrey was on her second orgasm and didn't care who knew it. At the back of Walter's mind, he somehow recalled they were not in the house alone. He put his hand over Audrey's mouth, trying to stifle her moans, admonishing her to "Sssssssssssssh!" but she was so far gone, she just bit his fingers, and he emitted an even louder "OW!"

As Megan peeked through the inside door leading to the garage, she wasn't sure what she was seeing. Her mother and Walter, yelling! Their faces flushed, wrestling, struggling together in the car! Her mother kept saying "Don't" and "Stop" but Walter kept bouncing her around like a rag doll and grunting. What was wrong with this picture? Megan turned on her heel and shot back upstairs as fast as she could.

When Audrey climaxed, she blacked out for a moment, due to the effects of the liquor. She collapsed into Walter's arms and revived again as he stroked her cheek and called her his own bonny wee lass. Hazily realizing that Walter's needs had not yet been met, Audrey wanted to take the party inside. Staggering and laughing, they clambered out of the car and made their way into the living room, leaving a trail of clothing as they went.

Once Audrey was on her back on their long living room sofa, Walter remembered there was a bottle of champagne in the refrigerator. They had purchased it in hopes that he would win the Best Weatherman award, but sadly, due to competitor Bruce Winchell, they had never had the chance to open it and celebrate.

"Wait right there, honey," Walter told Audrey, who was giving him that come-hither look that he found irresistible. He lurched into the kitchen to get them two glasses of champagne, unable to conceive of the massive hangover that they were going to have in just a few hours. With a noisy pop, the cork flew straight up into one of the kitchen lights and broke the bulb. Oblivious, Walter took their drinks back into the darkness of the living room. He and Audrey pledged an Irish toast,

_May neighbors respect you,_

_Trouble neglect you,_

_The angels protect you,_

_And heaven accept you!_

They clinked glasses, and gulped down the champagne.

"Come on, Papa Bear, let me have it," purred Audrey, holding out her arms to her husband. Walter eased himself into the missionary position and set a rhythm of slow, deep penetration. Audrey worked one of her legs around his waist and whispered sweet, dirty nothings into Walter's ear. They were having a grand old time!

Meanwhile, Megan had run to her brothers' bedroom. First she climbed the ladder to Drake's bed, where he was peacefully snoring away. Unfortunately, he had also inherited the Parker tendency to be a very deep sleeper, not easy to wake. She poked and prodded him, even pounded him with her fists a few times, without result. There was no other choice then, so she climbed into bed with Josh.

Josh was a light sleeper and when he opened his eyes to find Megan next to him, staring down into his face, his first reaction was to let out a startled wail. "Don't hurt me!" he shouted, wondering what evil intentions might be in store for him. To his astonishment, Megan started crying.

Megan blubbered, "Something weird is going on downstairs and I'm really scared. Mom and Dad were yelling and fighting each other in the car, down in the garage. I think something might be wrong with them. Or else Dad just went crazy and is trying to kill Mom. I got so freaked out, I just ran up here for help. They were making some strange animal noises."

Being half asleep, Josh wasn't quite putting the picture together, since what his parents were actually doing was so out of character with the parents he knew on a daily basis. He grabbed one of his slippers and took careful aim, tossing it at Drake's head. "Drake, wake up, we have a _situation_!"

He cuddled Megan and asked her, "Megan, do you want to stay here with me and have Drake go downstairs and check it out?"

Megan nodded and curled herself up into a little ball at Josh's side, seeking refuge in his strong arms. It took the other slipper to rouse Drake, who sat up and opened one eye, emitting a grumpy, "Huh?" Josh explained what Megan had said, as she continued to whimper and sob.

The sound of his baby sister in tears brought Drake to an aware state of consciousness. He sulkily tossed Josh's slippers back down towards him, while looking for his own. Never one to hold back when peeved, he muttered, "This better be good and not another one of your pranks, Megan. You interrupted the greatest dream." Ready for anything, he grabbed his golf club, and left the room.

Moments later, he shot back into the bedroom and threw himself into the bed with Josh and Megan. "OH. MY. GOD!" Drake shouted. Then he screwed his eyes tight shut and writhed back and forth. "I saw it. I saw Walter's hairy ass. I can't stand it. Just poke my eyes out, p-l-e-a-s-e."

"What is going on?" Josh wanted to know.

"My very own sweet mother. And that _beast_ of a man. It's too awful! How could she? I might start puking any minute," ranted Drake.

"What are you talking about?" wondered Josh.

"They're DOING IT ! On the couch. Where we sit. Oh, kill me now, Josh, don't make me think of it. It's the most messed-up thing I've ever seen in my whole life," Drake groaned.

All the pieces of the puzzle finally fell into place in Josh's head. He gently nudged Megan over next to Drake and got up. He flew down the steps to see if Drake was telling the truth. He still wasn't convinced this was NOT all part of some middle-of-the-night scheme of Megan's that Drake might be in on.

Josh tiptoed into the garage. He noted some crushed green and white paper cups strewn on the floor, decorated with _shamrocks_. He followed the trail, noticed an oversized green hat with a green feather, a green derby hat, some green necklaces, assorted shoes, a filmy green scarf, red-and-white striped knee-socks and sheer black stockings, then - - his mother's green dirndl skirt, his father's green knee pants, and – what the? - UNDERWEAR !

He crept into the kitchen and took note of the opened bottle of champagne. He turned his attention towards the living room, gazing through the open panel from the kitchen, and there, in the dim starlight coming in through the windows, he could see the shadowy form of his father, moving, OH MY GOD, up and down, OH MY GOD, faster and faster, having sexual intercourse with his stepmother. And, OH MY GOD, Megan was right; they were both being quite vocal with their enjoyment. Josh clapped his hands over his ears for a moment, then grabbed the open bottle of champagne and took off running, retreating to the safety of his room.

Megan was practically catatonic, sitting and staring, her arms tightly hugging herself. Drake had stopped writhing, but his eyebrows had almost meshed into a straight line across his forehead, topping the frown on his face, as he stared at nothing and continuously mumbled, "Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no, NO."

Josh scrambled back into the bed, like it was an island of sanity in a world turned upside down. "Okay. We weren't meant to see that. I smelled a lot of boozy fumes. I think our parents must be drunk. There was a trail of clothes that led me to them and I saw them – doing the _shamrock shake_," he said pointedly, looking at Drake and tapping him on the arm. Josh shook his head several times, as if that would eliminate the image etched into his memory.

Taking a swig from the bottle, Josh reiterated, "That's something that children are never, ever supposed to see or think about." Passing the champagne to Drake, Josh advised him, "Drink. We must erase this from our minds."

Drake accepted the bottle and gulped. "Oh, this is NASTY. Why does everyone think this stuff is so great? It's bitter and fizzy and kind of burns."

Megan spoke up. "I'll never be able to ride in the convertible again. I may never be able to go to sleep again. And I'll certainly never be able to look them in the eye EVER again."

"You need to take a drink, too, Megan," sympathized Drake.

Josh got up. "Wait. I have to mix it with something for her, it's too strong. She's suffered enough." He went to their mini-fridge and got out a can of lemon-lime soda and found a cup on the desk.

"Here, Megs. Sip this," said Josh, offering her the cup with the diluted mixture, "A little at a time. It will help you forget."

Megan took the cup from Josh as if in a trance and did as Josh told her.

"Megan, did they ever show you a special movie in school, you know, like in health class?" asked Josh.

"No. That's next semester," Megan replied.

"Did Mom ever, uh, have a talk with you . . . about what a man and a woman do when they love each other?" Josh further inquired, as delicately as possible.

"No. I guess she was waiting until after they showed the movie," answered Megan.

Drake broke in, vehemently, "Dude, I am not having 'THE TALK' with my little sister. No way!"

"Drake, this could scar her for life. She doesn't even understand what they were doing, so it seems extra scary," Josh explained.

Drake took another long pull from the bottle and passed it back to Josh. Josh did the same, and then hiccupped.

"Well, I can see why they call it the 'bubbly,'" Josh said as he began to feel tipsy.

Drake let out a giggle and replied, "That's such a funny word. _BUBBLY_."

They continued passing the bottle, sipping in silence, each one replaying what they saw and heard, and feeling stunned by it. Gradually, the consumption of the champagne started to relax them and make them rather drunk.

"Megan, do you remember the wedding vows that Mom and Dad said? There was one that went 'With my body, I worship thee,'" asked Josh.

"Not really," said Megan.

"What that means is that, even though it looked unbelievably gross to the three of us, Mom and Dad were enjoying what they were doing with each other. That's why they were making so much noise. It's a special way of, uh, laughing, for adults," Josh continued.

"I don't think I would ever want to do anything like that with anyone," Megan stated firmly.

"It does seem pretty bizarre, doesn't it? I mean, the way it's designed," added Drake, who had been listening with interest.

Josh interrupted, "I don't think we need to go into the mechanics of it right here and now."

Drake suddenly laughed. "What if they pass out down there? Maybe we should take pictures! We could blackmail them the rest of our lives."

"Why do I always have to be the conscience of the group? Our parents are good to us nearly all the time. I think we should just act like it never happened," sighed Josh.

Drake returned with, "If they're as tanked as you think they are, they might not even remember it happened. I mean, they're always on _our _backs about the consequences of our actions. I don't think we should let them off the hook so easily. We have to let them know we saw _something_."

"We could hide their clothes," Megan suggested.

Drake snapped his fingers. "I've got it. Remember when they were getting ready to leave for the party? The last thing they did was put on those buttons and badges that they've been collecting from a zillion other St. Patrick's Day celebrations. They had pinned those to their clothes. If we take those and pin them on ourselves, they'll have to wonder how we got them."

When the brothers and the sister stood up, they found that the room was spinning and tilting.

"My legs aren't working right. And my head feels funny," said Megan, as her knees started to buckle.

Josh lifted her up and set her on the couch. "Do you feel like you're going to be sick?"

"No. I just think I want to lay still with my eyes closed," Megan answered.

Josh got a blanket and put it over her. "You do that, then, while Drake and I go get the pins."

"Ooooh," giggled Josh. "That champagne packs quite a punch."

"I _know_!" answered Drake, who then let out a huge belch. "Let's get going on our mission. It would be awful if Mom and Dad caught us drinking. I don't want to get punished for their mistake."

Josh took the now-empty bottle of champagne, so he could slip it into the kitchen trash.

Clutching at the railing, the boys managed to make it down the stairs. Walter and Audrey must have gone to their bedroom, since they were no longer to be found on the sofa or in the car. But the clothes still littered the floor.

The buttons that Josh and Drake collected read:

_**Irish I had a Beer**_

_**Kiss Me, I'm Irish**_

_**Patrick was a Saint, I **__**A**__**in't**_

_**Honorary Leprechaun**_

_**The Gift O' the Blarney**_

_**Kiss My Shamrocks**_

"That's enough," said Josh, looking green around the gills. "Now we each have two things to show them. I need to get back to bed - pronto."

"Oh, yeah," agreed Drake. "I don't feel so great, either."

Continued in Chapter 2 - The Mornin' After.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: THE WEARIN' O THE GREEN

Author: therubyone

Word Count: 7,147 words, complete in 2 chapters

Characters: Walter, Audrey, Megan, Josh, Drake

Rated: M for Mature, some bodacious het (surprise!) between Walter & Audrey

Disclaimer: Characters not owned nor created by me, neither ill will nor profit sought

Summary: What happens when the parents come home drunk from a wild St. Patrick's Day celebration and the kids accidentally discover them having some adult-type fun!

Based on the St. Patrick's Day & subsequent fanfic challenges from Theatrephunk

THE WEARIN' O' THE GREEN

Chapter 2 – The Mornin' After

It had certainly been a memorable and unusual St. Patrick's Day for Megan Parker. She had seen her parents doing something mysterious, yet apparently normal for adults; she had turned to her brother Josh for comfort; and, she had tasted her first champagne. Then why did she still feel so AWFUL? She knew there must be plenty of cooties in her brothers' old couch, but she didn't have the energy to get away.

"Drake! Josh! BOOBS!" Megan called out in a voice to be reckoned with. "What is wrong with me? I don't like it."

Drake lifted his sleepy head from his pillow. "What's _wrong_ with you? How much time do you have? Let me count the ways."

"Now give the kid a break," Josh, yawning, told Drake. "Megan, you are feeling the after-effects from the champagne. Do you want me to carry you back to your own bedroom?"

"Yes. I think I'd like to stay in bed a while. Since it's raining, it's a good day for it," Megan replied, in a civil manner.

Josh easily picked her up and took her to her inner sanctum, settling her into the bed. On a whim, she put her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "Thanks, Josh. For taking care of me," she said shyly.

"That's what big brothers are for, Megan. It was a pleasant change from being pranked." Josh bit his lip and said no more. His nice moments with Megan were so rare and fleeting, he didn't want to risk spoiling this one.

"If you want to talk or anything, you know where to find me," he said on his way out, shutting the door as he left, eager to resume the horizontal position in his own bed.

Megan sighed as she sank down into her cozy bed, hoping she would dream of some evil things to do to her parents, as payback for what they just put her through. She looked at the clock, 10:18 a.m., and closed her eyes.

At precisely 11:32 a.m., Walter Nichols awoke to the sounds of thunder and found that an elephant was sitting on his head. His hair hurt. Even his eyeballs hurt. He slowly started to take stock of his surroundings. He was in his own bed, alone. He was naked. Then he started to flash back onto a jumble of images from the night before. Nothing was too clear from the time they left the television station. God, _what_ had been in that emerald punch? They didn't call it PUNCH for nothing!

Walter's mouth felt like sandpaper. He got up to get a drink from the powder room in their master bedroom suite. He gasped in dismay when he found the nude Audrey curled up on the floor, passed out in front of the toilet. Kneeling at her side, he carefully lifted her head to check her vital signs. As he did so, she started to groan. She opened her eyes only slightly. "Oh, Walter, I've been SO _sick_. I had to _vomit_. Then I couldn't stop, until I threw up bile, followed by the dry heaves. I feel horrible." Because Audrey was shorter and lighter than Walter, the effects of the alcohol had been even more pronounced for her.

"Come on, darling, let's get you back to bed," said Walter tenderly, as he assisted his wife up off the fuzzy bathroom rug and led her to the bed. "I think we could both use some ice water." After plumping her pillows and tucking her in, Walter put on his bathrobe and left the bedroom.

When he got to the lower level of their house, he saw the strewn clothing on the floor and had another flashback to the night before. Relieved that the kids all seemed to be spending the morning in bed, he grabbed a trash bag and scooped up everything he could find, feeling a hammer blow to the brain every time he stooped over, and he then tossed the bag containing 'the evidence' into the laundry room.

Walter prepared two 16-oz. glasses of ice water and selected a package of saltine crackers from the cupboard. Then he looked for a container of pain reliever. As he puttered, he noticed the empty champagne bottle in the bin. "Ah," he thought, "that's why we feel so bad. We drank that whole bottle on top of that toxic waste punch." He assembled everything onto a tray and carried it back upstairs.

After Walter's offerings of food, drink and Alevia, Audrey felt well enough to sit up, although she had to press her fingertips against her temples, since the movement from out flat to upright resulted in shooting pains in her head. "I don't know why the kids are sleeping in, maybe because it's such a dull and gloomy day outside, but when they do get up, you'll have to look after them, Walter. I'm just not up to it."

"They can make their own breakfast," Walter said, defensively. "They're not babies."

"Do you think they saw or heard anything last night?" Audrey pondered.

"I doubt it," Walter answered, unsure.

"It would be terrible if they did," Audrey concluded guiltily.

"Now let's not worry ourselves; what's done is done. We had a grand old time last night. You just need to rest and recover," Walter said reassuringly, as he climbed back into their bed. "I could use another forty winks myself."

Feeling much the worse for wear, Josh awoke at noon. He saw that Drake was already up and moving, albeit slowly, and not bothering to change out of his sleepwear. Drake had a long sock tied around his head. Noticing Josh's puzzled look, he explained, "It's an old Indian cure for headaches. It equalizes the pressure all the way around."

"We probably need fluids, too," said Josh, taking the offered sock from Drake's hand and tying it around his own head. He was willing to try anything. He had never had a hangover before and it was not to his liking.

Drake had some scant experience with alcohol, hanging out with Trevor, Scottie's older brother and self-acknowledged bad influence. Drake was the type of person who fought off the ill effects of the night before with dogged denial and focused activity.

Drake asked Josh, "Why don't you go get us some orange juice while I get the cotton balls?"

"I can't get out of this bed yet," Josh replied with regret. "Why the cotton?"

Indicating the placement of speakers to face towards the door, Drake answered, "We'll need it for our ears, since we have headaches, too." With fire in his eyes and a determined set to his jaw, he said, "I am getting ready to crank up some tunes. I think it's time our parents FACED THE MUSIC. Let the torture begin!"

Josh quickly wrapped his special pillow around his head to cover his ears.

Zero Gravity's **_Vengeance and Fury_** had been blasting for less than two minutes when Walter appeared, in full-on Angry Dad mode. "Turn that off. Your mother isn't feeling at all well. She doesn't need that racket," he squawked. Then he considered that the boys couldn't have known that, so he softened his tone, adding, "If you want to listen to your music or play the guitar, use headphones today."

"Oh, what's wrong with her?" asked Drake, with suspicion in his voice. "Did something _happen_ to her last night?"

"She's nauseous and she has a migraine," Walter answered.

"Josh isn't doing so hot, either," countered Drake. "It must be going around."

Walter scratched his scalp, as though he was going bananas, and wanted to know "Why do you boys have socks tied around your heads?"

With an utterly straight face, Drake looked at Walter somewhat defiantly and answered, "We don't."

"Wait a minute. Isn't that one of my St. Patrick's Day buttons?" asked Walter, eyeing the **_Kiss My Shamrocks_** badge, now affixed to Drake's t-shirt. Not waiting for an answer to the first question, he followed with, "Where did you get that?"

"Found it on the floor," Drake replied.

"I'll thank you to return it to the top of my bureau when you take it off," Walter advised Drake, deciding to let it slide. "Did either of you eat anything yet today?"

"We were just getting ready to have some juice," called Josh, from his bed.

"I'm going to fix pancakes for you then," stated Walter. "Please find out if Megan wants any on your way down to the kitchen." With an effort not to look or act as sick as he felt, Walter turned and left the room, heading downstairs.

"I feel queasy," announced Josh. "I don't think I can eat anything."

"It's just as well. You'll be better off in bed," commiserated Drake. "This is a job for the Parker kids, and I don't want your love for the truth to get in our way. I'll bring you something later."

Drake, now completely sock-less, left the room to go get Megan. Josh adjusted the sock around his head to make it a little tighter and hoped that what Drake brought would be the usual when it came to promised food deliveries: an _empty_ plate, since Josh was getting some very upsetting messages from his digestive system. He closed his eyes and tried to think peaceful thoughts.

When Drake knocked at Megan's door, he found her up and dressed, showing no ill effects at all. Drake handed her two of the contraband pins, which she stuck to her sweater. The two of them had a hushed and hurried conversation as they went down the steps.

Walter surprised himself by not burning the pancakes.

"Dad, would you go out to the lemon tree in the yard and pick one for me?" asked Megan sweetly. "I want to try some fresh lemon juice on my pancakes. At school we learned that's how they eat them in England."

Walter was so thrilled to hear Megan call him "Dad" that he rushed to fulfill her request, that is, rushed as fast as he was capable, in his current state.

As soon as Walter was out of sight, Drake watched as Megan jumped up, got out the step-_stool_ and put something on top of the refrigerator, pushing it as far towards the back as she could reach. He marveled that she not only showed no sign whatsoever of any hangover, but was up to her usual standards for pranking.

"I'm thinking that you're scheming it up real nice," observed Drake. "Do you need my help?"

Megan got down and put the step-stool away. She opened her hand to reveal small black devices shaped like bugs. "These are 'crickets.' That is, they make cricket sounds when I activate them, with the control embedded in this _pen_," she said, pointing to the ordinary-looking pen in her hip pocket. "I want to hide some around the house so I can drive Walter crazy."

"'Kay. I'll help you, but let's eat first," said Drake, making his priorities known.

Dripping from the rain, Walter returned with the lemon. He sliced it into wedges and as he was giving it to Megan, he noticed the **_Kiss Me, I'm Irish_** button on her sweater. "How did you get that?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out," Megan answered in her typical expressionless way. As an immediate distraction, she pressed the pen in her pocket. The measured chirps of a cricket could be heard.

"I wonder how a cricket got into the house," said a startled Walter.

"Don't kill it!" cried Megan. "It's bad luck! Catch it and put it outside."

While Walter was busy searching around the refrigerator, Drake slipped from his place at the kitchen table and quietly sneaked into the living room. He tossed a cricket into the fireplace, kicked one under the couch, dropped another between the seat cushions and returned to his place as silently as he had left it.

"I just about had it, but I think it jumped down behind the fridge. It must be scared because it's not chirping anymore," Walter commented to Megan, as he massaged his aching forehead.

Drake pushed away his empty plate, stood up and announced, "I'm going to take something up to Josh and see if he's feeling any better."

From the doorway of the kitchen, Drake signaled Megan by holding up three fingers and pointing to the living room. She nodded slightly and said to Walter, "After we eat, why don't we watch some cartoons together and you can tell me all about the party last night."

Drake gave the 411 to an ailing Josh, "The mistress of the dark side is doing her worst."

"Huh?" asked Josh, as Drake handed him a plate full of pancakes and a glass of orange juice.

"When it's not us she's pranking, I can almost admire Megan's evil genius at work," revealed Drake. "She has these 'bugs' she's using, to keep Walter hopping."

Josh moaned, and took a sip of the juice. "Poor Dad. I _so_ don't approve of this and yet feel helpless to stop it."

"Eat up," Drake advised him, tossing Josh a small plastic bottle. "I brought some Minephenol for our headaches. Besides, it's out of our hands now," Drake said, as he flopped onto his mattress, "so I'm catching a few more z's."

After a catnap, Drake headed back to the kitchen with empty plate and assorted glassware that had been accumulating, and found an exasperated Walter spraying the microwave (in flames and still emitting _sparks_) with the fire extinguisher. Megan pulled Drake aside into the laundry room. Her eyes were alight with pleasure as she told him gleefully, "I waited until Walter dozed off. Then I had him going after the one in the fireplace, next the one under the sofa, and finally the one in the cushions. I made sure he was asleep first, each time. I didn't think the one in the microwave would cause it to catch on fire – that's just a bonus!"

Megan was one frightening little girl. While Drake could appreciate the result (Walter's misery), it creeped him out big time just how much Megan enjoyed it, having been on the receiving end of her plots so many times before. Wanting to get away from her, repressing a shiver, he returned to the kitchen.

Walter looked up from the tray he was preparing, and said, "Ah, Drake, take this soup up to the microwave in your bedroom and heat it for your mother." Indicating the defunct microwave on the kitchen counter, with a heartfelt sigh, he said, "I'm going to have to get this out of here and clean everything up."

Drake no longer felt quite as elated as when he was making plans for his parents' discomfort. In fact, the last thing he wanted right about now was to see his mother. He did as he was told and took the tray, but went up the steps reluctantly.

When the microwave beeped, Drake took the bowl out and set it on the tray, and wheedled Josh, "Wouldn't YOU like to take this to Mom?"

Shaking his head minimally, to reduce the shock waves, Josh answered, "Oh, no, dude. I don't think I could face her right now. You'll have to."

Hoping his mother would be asleep, Drake tapped lightly on the bedroom door, and had already turned to walk the other way when he heard her say, "Come in."

Audrey was sitting up in bed, wearing her pink bathrobe. She had tried to revive herself in the shower and her wet hair was wrapped up in a white _towel_, turban style. Happy to see her eldest child, the corners of her mouth started to turn up when she winced and cried out, "Oooh, it even hurts me to smile."

"Walter sent me up here with this," Drake said, apologetically, indicating the tray.

Audrey brightened. "He's so thoughtful that way-"

"Rough night?" Drake interrupted, more sharply than he had intended.

"We had a grand old time at the station party. Unfortunately for us, somebody spiked the punch! It was dark green; the placard read 'non-alcoholic' and it tasted sweet and fruity. Before we knew it, the damage was done," Audrey informed Drake. "Let this be an example for you: the high you might get from alcohol the night before is never worth feeling like _this_ the day after."

"So you didn't mean to get plastered?" asked Drake.

"Of course not," Audrey assured him. "We were there with people Walter works with. He doesn't want anyone to think badly of him. Everybody drinking that punch ended up in the same boat."

"Was he doing anything extra goofy?" Drake wanted to know.

Audrey laughed. "He was singing Irish tunes, but so was everyone else. He has a nice voice. I even joined in on **_Danny Boy_**. So, what's going on in the rest of the house, since I've been out of it?"

"Josh is still in bed," reported Drake. "Maybe he's coming down with something? It's been raining nonstop. Walter made pancakes." In an offhand way, he added, "Megan's been having fun with him all afternoon."

"He's hung over, too; I'm surprised he has the strength to play with her. Family always comes first with Walter," mused Audrey.

Drake did not like the turn the conversation was taking. Just then he noticed his mother's eyes, with their x-ray vision, staring at the badges on his chest. His hand flew up to cover them, and he moved towards Walter's highboy. In slow motion, as he took the pins off and put them into a wooden container with Walter's cufflinks, he heard his mother say, "Drake Parker, you SAW something, didn't you?" He was glad he had his back to her, so she couldn't see his face. Her words pinned him in place and he stood there, unresponsive.

"Mothers can read minds, you know. Come over here and let me look you in the eye." She indicated that Drake should sit down on the bed beside her. "Spill," she commanded him, as he seated himself at the furthest distance from his mother.

"Last night," Drake said, like a deer caught in the headlights, under her frank gaze, "You and Walter were on the couch." Wishing he could shrink himself to microscopic size, he squeezed out the detested words, "I saw Walter's butt."

"Drake," said Audrey, "You're nearly grown up now, so I don't have to explain what was going on. I apologize for the lapse in judgment. I know it's embarrassing for everyone concerned. When I walked in on your grandma and grandpa when I was young, I _cried,_ I was so upset."

In surprise, Drake blurted, "That's exactly what Megan did!"

A frown line appeared across Audrey's forehead as she asked with dread, "MEGAN?"

"She came and woke me and Josh because of it," Drake explained, looking down, anywhere but at his mother's eyes. "She saw you in the car. That's how we knew."

Audrey smacked her forehead in disbelief and blushed. "JOSH knows, too?" She swallowed hard. "Oh, my God! How awkward! I haven't even had the, uh, '_talk'_ yet with your sister," she said, shamefaced.

"We took care of her," Drake said with pride, then, "Well, Josh mainly. He gave her a little information, enough so she could calm down."

"That's your brother all over. He's a stand-up kind of guy," admitted Audrey, with a smile.

"Can I go now?" asked Drake, attempting to back off of the bed. "This is making me feel so . . . _squirmy_."

"I'm not letting you go yet," said Audrey, using her mother's voice to stop Drake's escape. "We need to talk some more, until you _don't_ feel so 'squirmy.' Walter and I have been married now for almost four years. Granted it's not something you should see, but that aspect of our relationship shouldn't be bothering you as much as it seems to," Audrey told her son. She observed Drake's features forming into a distinct pout.

Putting her arm around his shoulders, and pulling him towards her, she said gently, "Sweetie, you mustn't think that my loving Walter in any way replaces you or Megan in my heart. There's nothing to be jealous about."

"Not me and Megan," Drake, with his chin down, replied in a low voice, through gritted teeth.

"Your own father?" asked Audrey. "You mustn't think that. You and Megan are the visible signs of the great love he and I once shared. I'll never forget it or him," she said, as she turned Drake so they were facing each other. "But now I'm married to Walter. Like it or not, we are a family. I wish you could see him through my eyes, what a good man he is. We could never keep on living in this nice house or have the lifestyle we do just on my income. Walter is proud to provide for us and he's kindhearted. And because of him, Josh came into our lives as well. What would your life be like without Josh as your stepbrother? Josh and Walter share many of the same wonderful qualities."

Audrey swept Drake into an embrace and started rocking him gently as though he were a little boy again. He started tuning in and out on her words and retreated into his own thoughts, hearing her say, ". . . love has many different faces . . . room for all . . . in our hearts . . . the people who touch our lives . . ." while letting himself enjoy the comfort found in a mother's arms, listening to her heartbeat, inhaling her sweet, familiar scent, which he could only describe as '**_sunshine_**,' feeling the touch of her soft hand stroking his forehead. He melted before her, all his objections being smoothed away, his hurts soothed, his mind calmed, for she was the one woman in his life who could render him completely helpless, because with her he felt safe. "Some day you'll understand . . . you'll meet someone special . . . you can't judge by appearances . . ." she murmured, her words transforming into a love song that she weaved throughout the story of her life, along the way breaching his angry defenses, dissolving his fears, bathing him in her unconditional love, and Drake became so relaxed and blissful, he was not of a mind to get up again, when his mother finally kissed him and told him to find Megan and send her in.

As if he was floating on a cloud, Drake corralled his sister, then drifted dreamily back to his room, unconsciously whistling a song his mother used to sing to him in his childhood. Drake found Josh sitting up in bed with his laptop computer. Drake lazily lifted the _covers_ and climbed in to sit next to his brother, sticking his cold, bare feet under Josh's leg. Squelching a mild reactionary yelp, Josh merely asked, "What?"

"Mom _knows_," Drake explained. "All it took was one glance at the pins. She said they got drunk by accident, since they thought they were drinking straight punch. She apologized for . . . what we saw. I mean the fact that we _saw_ it, not for doing it. For reasons I'll never be able to understand, she made me realize that she loves Walter. And she reminded me that without Walter in _her_ life, I'd be knocking around all alone up here in this bedroom," and as he spoke, Drake slid down in the bed a little so that his head rested against Josh's arm. Drake continued, "I can't even imagine that now. It would be a fate worse than death!"

Josh opened his eyes a bit wider at this roundabout compliment and accepted it without further discussion. After a slight pause, he asked, "So you're okay with everything and you're not going to continue your campaign of torture?"

"Not for this, and not any more today. Does that sound fair? I can't speak for Megan, though," Drake snickered. "I think Mom's having 'the talk' with her right now! Dad's heating up leftover Irish stew. After the day he's had, that's all he can manage."

"I recognize the aroma," Josh replied. "I don't feel as badly as I did earlier. I'm glad tomorrow is Sunday. Then this weekend won't go entirely to waste. We didn't even get dressed today!" Josh noted.

"I _know_," Drake agreed. He looked at Josh with a conspiratorial grin, saying, "We need to get out and do something fun together! Hope it stops raining by then."

The two boys knuckle-touched on it and got up to answer their father, who was calling them to come down to the table for dinner.

FADE TO BLACK


End file.
